


That fic no one asked for but me

by fineandwittie



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Baptism, Don't really care though, Embarrassment, Exposure, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, OOC, PWP, Porn, Public Hand Jobs, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexy Times, Smut, Sort Of, THIS IS NOT A GANGBANG I PROMISE, Uhtred likes it, Voyeurism, alfred the puppet master, and hates that he likes it, but no one asked him his opinion anyway so they don't know that, clothed men naked men, embarrassed nude male, probably out of character, the witan misbehaving, unwanted touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 01:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: Sooooo. This is straight up porn.Alfred convinces Uhtred to be baptized in the square in front of the palace at Winchester (some time in the second half of season 2), then forces Uhtred to attend a meeting of the Witan without giving him back his flimsy white robe. Uhtred is very embarrassed about this.If you find any of the tags triggering, please don't read, but they are all legit present here.
Relationships: Alfred the Great/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Kudos: 4





	That fic no one asked for but me

**Author's Note:**

> I literally could not help myself. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry. I might add a second chapter to this or I might not. I dunno. I find writing porn for these two insanely difficult and I don't know why. It somehow always just ends up in a really emotional conversation and meaningful staring.
> 
> It's very frustrating.

Uhtred could not have told you how he’d let himself be talked into such a situation. He couldn’t even remember what moronic reason Alfred had given when he demanded it. But somehow, some way, Uhtred had agreed and so here he was, stepping up onto a platform in the middle of the square outside the palace at Winchester. There were large screens set up to shield him from the hungry eyes of the crowd. Though what good they actually did was anyone guess, since they did not overlap, leaving wide gaps for people to gape through. 

There were faces in that crowd that he knew. If he looked, Uhtred would likely have been able to spot Finan and Sihtric in the crowd at least, but he did not look. Instead, he took a deep breath and untied the three fastenings on the flimsy, white linen robe they’d given him. He wasn’t sure why they bothered, considering he’d be completely naked in about five seconds and remain that way for however long this whole nonsense took. No one had even explained to him what came after being dunked in the water barrel. He barely remembered anything from his own second baptism, other than the frigid cold and that it had been over quickly, but that had also been an extenuating circumstance and there was no telling whether or not they’d skipped bits. It seemed likely that they had.

The sides of the robe parted and he slipped it off his shoulders, leaving him nude. He handed it off to Father Beocca, as his skin prickled, and he shifted slightly on his feet, but the movement just brushed his thighs together, making him even more aware of his exposure, of the eyes of everyone around him: the crowds in the streets and the square, the women squeezing onto balconies, the entire Wessex’s Witan at his back, half a dozen priests, the guards, and the royal family. 

All four of them were standing behind him. He had little doubt that Aethelflaed, at least, was staring at his backside, her worthless husband grinning at her side, probably wallowing in Uhtred’s humiliation. He wondered if Aelswith had closed her eyes in disgust or if she was relishing the lashmarks on his back. He wondered if Alfred was examining him with that sharp, assessing gaze. Was he coming up short?

He shivered at the thought and stepped into the water, his thighs spreading wide to find the bottom of the tub. A breeze whispered over his balls and across the hidden flesh between his thighs. He crouched down quickly, hoping to hide both his body and the blush that was surely darkening his cheeks.

He was proud of his body, of its strength and of most of the scars he wore, earned in battle as they’d been, and he was raised a Dane. He was not shy about nudity, but none of that stopped the embarrassment from clogging his throat and sitting hot in his guts. He had never been so bare before so many hungry eyes before, so many clothed people. 

Above his head, Father Beocca and Father Pyrlig were speaking, but the words were muffled by the water. Time stretched and Uhtred’s embarrassment faded. His lungs began to burn and he thought it might be a good trade to get back out of the tub and be exposed again, to be able to inhale. Just as he began to shift, thinking about pushing against the hands that held him, they disappeared from his head and he was pulled up out of the water. 

The air tasted sweeter somehow for being deprived of it. He reached up and smoothed his hands over his hair, pressing the excess water from it, no longer noticing the crowds of people. Father Beocca was smiling at him, but his face was flushed and he was keeping his eyes pointedly on Uhtred’s face. Father Pyrlig on the other hand was not so courteous, for he kept shooting curious glances down at Uhtred’s crotch, though it was still below the waterline.

Uhtred ignored them both and shook the water from his hands. The white robe was nowhere to be seen and Uhtred frowned, a prickle of dread dancing across his scalp and a burn of embarrassment settling back into his guts. He frowned at Beocca who shrugged helplessly. “You are to accompany the king and the Witan into the hall.”

Uhtred blinked. “And my clothes?”

Beocca shook his head, flush darkening. He stared at Uhtred’s face in earnest now, as though he could spare his modesty if he just avoided looking at his body hard enough. “No. The King has forbidden it.”

The words were like a pail of scalding water being thrown over Uhtred’s head. His skin seared with them. His belly squirmed. He could feel his cheeks going red. His eyes cut immediately to Alfred, who was watching him with a dark, burning gaze and a blank face. Aethelflaed was grinned broadly at Alfred’s side, though her face was pink.

Swallowing against a suddenly tight throat and calling up every ounce of defiance he could muster, Uhtred climbed up out of the tub, giving everyone with a view an excellent glimpse of his backside and his balls between his thighs. He ignored the priests and ealdormen alike, as he descended the steps and crossed to the King. “Lord.” He said, with a quick nod that was not quite deep enough to count as a bow. “You have forbidden me my clothes, I’m told. May I ask the reason?”

He tilted his head, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands. Instead, he stood, his shoulders back and his feet planted as though for a fight. His stance, while clearly communicating his belligerence, also presented his body to the king in a way he had not intended, thrusting his hips forward and flexing the muscles in his torso. 

Alfred’s hot gaze swept the length of his body, so heavy that it felt to Uhtred like a touch, and his thin mouth curled into a half-smile for the briefest beat before flattening again. “You may not. Come, there is a meeting to attend.” 

Uhtred bit down on a surly reply, his body relaxing from his defiant stance, but followed as the king led the way to his throne room. Without the king to focus on, Uhtred was uncomfortably aware of his nudity, of the people at his back, of the heavy gazes of the witan which seemed so tangible as they caressed his flesh. His bare feet slapped against the stones. 

The members of the witan swarmed around him, moving easily ahead of his reluctant steps, which was a mistake on his part, because by the time he reached the doors, half the witan was inside already. They crowded round the door, not close enough for him to have to push his way inside, but tight enough that he brushed against cloaks and tunics as he slipped between them. 

Each light touch of wool or linen against his skin reminded him how bare he was, how exposed. How vulnerable. He was unarmed and therefore at their mercy, for there were several score of men crowded around him, all of them ealdorman. He was powerless, no doubt as Alfred had intended. It was not a feeling he was accustomed to, nor one he relished. 

The helplessness and the bareness of his flesh constricted around his ribs, sending heat skittering up hist chest to pool in his cheeks. He could not remember blushing so much in his life. He could not remember feeling embarrassed enough to blush. He swallowed against a dry throat, trying to ignore the whisper of fabric against his body, against his increasingly sensitized skin. Each new brush felt rougher than the last. He wondered, edging toward hysterical, if his skin would be pink and raw all over when the meeting was done. If there would be any part of him that these ealdormen wouldn’t claim.

He should have known better than to think that way. The spinners loved to play with him and humiliation was no less entertaining to them than fighting. And so, he had nearly cleared the crowd, when, instead of the brush of fabric against his skin, Uhtred felt a hand reach out and cup his buttocks, squeezing gently before releasing. 

Uhtred gasped, the touch shooting through him like lightening, and swung around to identify the culprit. With the closeness of the crowd, it was impossible to tell, but the action seemed to have given permission to anyone who might want it. They pressed in closer to him, allowing no more gaps between them for him to slip through, no path by which to escape the dozen or more grasping hands that reached for him.

He should have looked up into their faces, meet their gaze with all the defiance he had mustered for the king, learn them so that later, when this ordeal was over, he could exact his revenge against them for the liberties they were about to take. He couldn’t. He could not find the will to raise his eyes from where they’d dropped to the floor. He could only clench his hands into fists, grit his teeth against making any sound, and try to fight the blood that was rushing through his body, filling his cock and straining his cheeks. 

Goosebumps broke out across his entire body, as hands, one on each side, skimmed along his hips. Another set of hands squeezed his buttocks again, fingers digging in deep this time, leaving bruises, just as an arm wrapped around him from behind, the hand attached sliding from shoulder to groin, stopping just short of the root of his prick. 

He flinched, squirmed, twisted at every touch, unsure whether he was trying to escape from them or encourage them. Shame was like a living thing inside his chest. He was warrior, a sword-Dane, not a common whore. He shouldn’t be standing here, bare and vulnerable, allowing these men to touch him as they wished. 

A particularly brazen ealdorman curled questing fingers around his cock and gave it a quick pull. Uhtred yelped at this, shocked, the blush on his cheeks darkening. His eyes swung up, darting nervously around, seeking some kind of escape or safe haven, some indication that this was not actually happening. They landed on Alfred, who was watching him with hunger in his face and doing absolutely nothing to stop his ealdormen from touching Uhtred’s bare body. The very thought sent a fizzy squirming thing buzzing under Uhtred’s skin.

He twisted further in those grasping hands. Someone reached for his wrists, pulling his hands outward to expose him more, though there was nothing left that he was hiding. He was shuffled, pushed by the press of the crowd, over to the nearest pillar and shoved against it. He wrenched his arms free from the hands that clung to him, just in time to stop his face from connecting painfully with the wooden beam. In his distraction, someone managed to grip his hips in a punishing hold and yank them back. 

It tilted his arse out and made it easier for them to kick his legs further apart, giving them better access to his body. Over and over again, hands reached out and touched him: gliding over his chest, tweaking his nipples until they hardened into peaks, digging into his buttocks, pulling at his cock, cupping his balls, slipping between his thighs to run back and forth along the newly visible flesh between his balls and his hole, spread the cheeks of his arse apart and pet his hole with the lightest of fingertips. 

Uhtred’s breath stuttered at that last, pleasure coiling tight in his belly. He was hard, had been since nearly the first touch, but with that teasing finger against his hole, he couldn’t control his voice any longer. He moaned, loud and shameful. 

“Enough!” Alfred’s voice cracked across the silence, sharp as a whip.

In a blink, Uhtred was abandoned. All the hands disappeared. All the ealdormen scurried away from him. He sagged across the pillar, going slowly to his knees as his body adapted to the sudden lack of sensation. He was shivering like an hard-ridden horse, sweat gleaming on his skin in the low light of the throne room. His chest heaved with his panting breaths. His eyes had slipped shut at some point. He opened them now and dragged his head around.

Alfred was studying him. He met Uhtred’s eyes, mouth curling into a thin smile, before turning to the gathered lords. “We have a meeting to conduct. This gathering is not for your entertainment, ealdormen. This behavior is unbecoming of the lords of Wessex.” But his voice, far from being chastising, sounded sly. 

Uhtred tried not to squirm at the sound of it. He could feel how heavy and full his cock was, hanging free between his thighs. 

“When we are adjourned, you will leave this room. None of you will lay a single finger on or in Ealdorman Uhtred again. Is that clear? Not a single touch to any part of his naked body.” Alfred continued, the slyness in his tone growing along with a dark heat.

Uhtred’s breath stuttered in his lungs. Alfred calling attention his nudity somehow made it worse. The words _on or in_ and _his naked body_ echoed in his head, stoking the heat in his face and the hot twist of embarrassment in his guts. 

He wondered how long he’d have to wait before he could leave. How long the gathering would take. If he could simply stay where he was, thighs splayed wide around the wooden beam. The pressure of his arse resting on this heels spread his arsecheeks and no doubt gave anyone who was still watching him a glimpse of his fluttering hole, as he knelt on the floor.

He shuddered at the thought. Dropping his forehead against the beam, he decided to pretend that he was alone in the room. It might be the only way he’d be able to get through however long this took. Under their hands, he was so drunk on too much sensation, oversensitive and quivering, that there was no room for thought. Now though, he had been left alone, untouched, and shivering with cold instead. There was nothing else for him to do but think. 

Think of the several score sets of eyes on him. Think of all of the hands that had touched him without his permission. Think of every inch of bare flesh. Think of the slick coil of shame in his belly. Think about wrong he was in the head. Because he liked it. 

He liked the helplessness. He liked the vulnerability, the exposure, the hunger in the gazes that rested on him.

It was this revelation and the hot sting of tears that it produced behind his eyes that jolted him from his trance. He blinked his eyes open, looking around the blurry room. He blinked again, forcing the moisture away, though it clung still to his eyelashes, and saw that the room was empty. 

When had the ealdormen left? Had Alfred dismissed them? Why? Why hadn’t he been sent away too? Where were his clothes?

He jerked back from the pillar and twisted around. Alfred was still standing at the throne, staring at him. The king tilted his head. “You seemed very far away, Uhtred. Are you really so displeased with your current predicament? The state of your cock suggests that you aren’t.”

Uhtred stared at him for a long moment, confusion clouding his mind, before glancing down at his own body. Alfred was right. Uhtred’s cock was still hard, thick and full and flushed with blood. He dragged his eyes back up to Alfred, lips parted on panting breath, but he didn’t say anything.


End file.
